(84) For the end, a Psalm for the sons of Core, concerning the wine presses. How amiable are your tabernacles, O Lord of hosts!

My soul longs, and faints for the courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh have exulted in the living god.

Yes, the sparrow has found himself a home, and the turtle-dove a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, [even] your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.

Blessed are they that dwell in your house: they will praise you evermore. Pause.

Blessed is the man whose help is of you, O Lord; in his heart he has purposed to go up

the valley of weeping, to the place which he has appointed, for [there] the law-giver will grant blessings.

They shall go from strength to strength: the God of gods shall be seen in Sion.

O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer: listen, O God of Jacob. Pause.

Behold, O God our defender, and look upon the face of your anointed.

For one day in your courts is better than thousands. I would rather be an abject in the house of God, than dwell in the tents of sinners.

For the Lord loves mercy and truth: God will give grace and glory: the Lord will not withhold good things from them that walk in innocence.

O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusts in you.